


To Cobwebs and Coffee

by Witches_Britches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witches_Britches/pseuds/Witches_Britches
Summary: When the Ministry of Magic hosts a holiday party it's nearly expected their employees would throw back pixie shots, hold sexually charged bickering matches, and wake up right next to each other in the morning.  Happy Holidays everyone, cheers to Dramione shippers, and may all your Yuletide wishes come true.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 22
Kudos: 120
Collections: Ministry Advances





	1. Tinker

An **office Christmas party** is a party or social for employees in a particular organization or department near the month of December to celebrate Christmas, often paid for by the employee's company.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

**. . . Flash Forward . . .**

Hermione winced from the light, rolling over in bed to avoid it stinging her eyes. She quickly regretted this action because it caused a pulsing pain in her head; she chided herself never to drink again. Rubbing her forehead, she tried to recall the reason she had been drinking in the first place. _Oh right, the company Christmas do._

Sitting up slowly, attempting not to worsen her headache, her hair draped over her eyes, useful at least to block out some of the light. As she sat hunched over, she noticed that the sheets that covered her legs were not hers, nor was this bed. Staring down at the grey covers, she concluded, _Oh right, I'm at Ginny's_.

As she stretched, something began to slip down the side of her body. Looking down, she realized that it was a towel, and it was the only thing between her and her nudity. Gasping quietly, she urgently pulled it back up, hoping in her modesty that Ginny was still asleep beside her and did not get a private show. She squinted her eyes, curious as to why she did not borrow a nightgown from her friend.

She glanced over to see the space beside her, empty. At first Hermione was relieved, but then she remembered that Harry had recently moved in with Ginny. She chastised herself for taking the couple’s bed; they were likely to be out on the couch in the living room.

Sleepily looking to the floor for her missing clothes, Hermione’s gaze paused at a pair of chair legs, which bracketed a pair of bare feet. Hermione flinched back, startled, gripping the sheets close to her body. Her eyes peeked past her hands as she remained slouched, hoping she did not wake whoever had occupied the chair. 

Gaining the courage to sit up slightly, she scanned the figure fully. Immediately she clamped her hand over her mouth, muffling her breath. The chair was occupied by someone completely unexpected, but thankfully they appeared to be in a deep slumber. She took this opportunity to study him, watching his bare chest rise and fall. Glancing around the room to be sure there was no one else to witness her, she leaned forward to see if he was fully clothed. There was a brief relief to find that he was still wearing pajama bottoms. She, on the other hand, did not have anything on her bottom. Clenching her towel even tighter around her body, she was unable to decide on what to do next.

The throbbing in her temple intensified from the shock, and she reflected on what she had drunk the night before. This attempt to recall the nightl made her panic, because she found a series of disconnected memories from the Ministry Christmas do. The internal questions that held no answers nearly made her sick. _Why am I naked? How did I get here? What in the name of Godric’s ghost happened last night?_

**. . . Day of the Office Christmas Do . . .**

Hermione paced up to the canteen near her Ministry office, eager to get some caffeine in her system before having to listen to another one of Harry’s seminars on how to avoid another dark lord uprising. Over a decade had passed since their school days, and now they were all in top positions at the Ministry. Harry had his heart in the right place, but requiring a bimonthly attendance was a bit excessive. If only he had been this diligent in his classes back at Hogwarts. 

There was plenty of pushback by colleagues on spacing out his seminars, but he persisted on their importance; his counter-argument being that dark wizards tended to gain a foothold exactly when no one was paying attention.

Distracted by her thoughts on what Harry would bring to the table today, she wandlessly levitated a clean mug from a high shelf above, narrowly avoiding an office memo zipping past her arm. 

As Hermione made her way to the small coffee machine that reliably sat on a spindly-legged table, she stood aghast to find a huge work of machinery filling an entire wall instead. This was a monster of a contraption, with intertwining bronze pipes, and gadgets and nozzles galore. She hesitated, studying it closely, just wanting a simple coffee. After a few moments, she nearly gave up, but internally chastised herself, _I must learn new things, plus I really need something extra today. I just don’t know why we need something this fancy._

She scanned the large ‘coffee machine’, inspecting every option available until she finally discovered the switches to use for a simple breakfast drip. After tinkering with button pressing and knob twisting, it began to make erratic ticking noises. This was followed by ridiculous musical whistles, all before it finally started to percolate. Realizing that she was still holding onto her mug, she hastily jogged to the very end of the machine to place the cup under a very tiny spout. 

Eagerly waiting for the large machine to fill her cup, she was startled to hear someone clearing their throat behind her. Turning to glance at who else was in the room, she quickly turned back again to face the coffee machine upon discovering who it was. She was not mentally prepared to deal with _him_ . Perhaps he was not clearing his throat _at her_ ; she tried to reason. After all, it did not take her _that_ long to conquer the beastly coffee machine towering before her. Maybe he did not even see her struggle, at least not from where he was sitting, some hidden nook in the canteen. He sat leaning back in his chair at a cafe table with the Daily Prophet blocking his face. Just the sight of his platinum blond hair slicked back with pride made her feel as if he was judging her already. Hermione tapped her foot anxiously, trying to rid her mind of the image of his long fingers holding some part of her anatomy, instead of the newspaper they currently gripped. 

Tightening her eyes, she immediately became annoyed with herself. _It’s too early for such things Hermione._

Still her cheeks grew warm from the off the color thoughts of him that she pushed far back in her mind. He had become more mature, and with that, new memories of him began to replace ones from the past. When she was able to block those more seditious and far fetched thoughts, she then grew more embarrassed that perhaps he had observed her childish discovery of the Ministry’s exuberant coffee maker. He always caught her at her most vulnerable moments such as these. Like the time she was unable to control a slew of memos that had gotten out of control, and he spelled them to pause mid air right before they dove into her hair. It was not often that people saw her in a state of confusion, why did it have to be him? In those briefest of moments she found that he was kind and observed a sort of softness in his eyes, but it all changed when a coworker was present, and he was back to teasing her. Maybe he did not change after all. Hermione sighed. Perhaps she did not either, because it was unlike her to treat anyone differently, especially in a professional setting. Had another coworker passed her, she would have greeted them with respect, so she took a deep breath, she muttered as politely as she could muster, 

"Malfoy..."

Still facing the large coffee machine, she heard him adjust the newspaper as he replied smoothly, 

"Granger..."

His voice was low, and only then did she somehow manage to detect the musk of his cologne over the brewing coffee. She was not sure if she associated the notes of cedarwood to the sound of his voice, or if she really could detect his scent. 

Not wanting to make conversation, she kept her eyes on her coffee mug waiting for it to fill. She glared at the ridiculous coffee maker, mentally willing the blasted machine to move faster. Finally the steamy liquid streamed into her mug and she grabbed the handle to pick it up as soon as it was full. The tiny refrigerator that sat nearby appeared pathetic now, completely overshadowed by the giant contraption. 

Just as she was about to grab the handle of the refrigerator, Draco grazed past her. She suspected he did that on purpose, nearly spilling the overdue cup of coffee she possessed. It stood to reason that he did this in an attempt to show his dominance from their last bickering session, because there was plenty of walking space in the kitchen, regardless of the wall to wall contraptions. Why did he always try to pick a fight over useless information with her in every meeting? Was it just to rile her up? Remind everyone where they stood? She did her best to appear professional though, never complaining to Harry, though perhaps a bit too much to Ginny.

Brushing him off, and wanting to get out as soon as possible, she began to hope that they would not be out of cream - one of her pet peeves. Opening the door as wide as possible, as if it would help her search, she strained to recognize the little white carton of creamer amongst juice bottles and a few questionable chinese takeout boxes, grumbling in despair, "Seriously, who keeps using it all up?"

Draco turned slightly as he made his way back to the table. "Just make tea, and use the milk like everyone else.”  
  
Hermione grew frustrated, it was true that she was one of the rare few that enjoyed a bit of cream in her coffee at the Ministry. So who would kept using it up? Of course, the massive band of tea drinkers always had milk readily available to them. When she thought on it further, she was possibly one of the first to use the ridiculous coffee contraption, unless Malfoy had already. She scowled, glancing to the adjacent wall that contained another outrageously complicated machine for the tea drinkers. Who would be using the cream then? 

Draco continued as he sat back down, rustling his newspaper, “Surely you can have one cup of coffee without cream, Granger."

Frustrated that someone as spoiled as a Malfoy would imply that she _go without_ , she closed the door to the refrigerator, rounding on him. "How did you know- Oh, was it you then?"

Draco sat down, lifting his nearly matching coffee mug as proof, "No, I drink mine _black_."

Hermione sneered back, "Figures..."

Draco mumbled to himself as he lifted his paper up to read again, "Don’t be so bitter.”

A wave of heat radiated within her, as Hermione did not see herself as a bitter person; she just liked things a certain way. He would not win another work spat between them - not today. She had a long day stretched ahead of her, and she just wanted a blasted cup of coffee _with_ cream. 

Walking up to his table, she leaned down, touching the tip of the newspaper to make eye contact for emphasis, then gestured to his cup of black coffee, "Bitter? Funny, since it appears, that is _exactly_ how you like it." 

His eyes slowly trailed from her finger where it dented the top edge of his paper, until his grey eyes met with hers. Proudly, and before she could ruin her own sass, she tilted her head, turning to walk away toward the sink. Confidently she poured out her drink, curtly placing the mug down and began walking out of the room, having decided to get coffee elsewhere. Though she expected him to be highly annoyed from her retort, he did not reply as quickly as usual. Momentarily breaking her ‘smooth’ exit, she peeked back to see his reaction. It was curious, to find him grinning into his mug before he took a sip of his coffee.

**. . . Mid-Morning . . .**

Finally, after back to back meetings that left her feeling like she wasted her morning, she was able to break away, specifically to the ladies room. Hastily, she entered a stall to use the loo, and just as she locked the door, she heard the clicking of heels from the entrance of the bathroom. Hermione deduced there were two witches; she heard one woman use Draco’s name as they entered. This of course caused Hermione to freeze, listening quietly to their conversation.

"Nora, I think you’re missing the point."

"Oh please, enlighten me, Jadis."

"Draco is _always_ late. He thinks he can just get off on his good looks and inheritance, and now that he's the head of his department- I should have never approved it."

"Jadis, you weren't the only one who chose to put him there. Relax. You are still _the boss_."

"Yes well, then I shouldn't just _let him_ come in late without consequences. _This_ is a professional workplace. It insults us _all_ that an _ex-Death Eater_ comes in and does what he likes, when he likes."

"Well, do what you must! Hey, if you do it before the Christmas party, I can swoop in with some sympathy, if you know what-"

"Yes, unfortunately I do know what you mean. I don't know what you see in him. I don't think he belongs here, so maybe... he won’t any longer.” There was a short pause until she continued, “Bloody hell, another Potter seminar, we better hurry or he’ll conclude that being _late_ is some sort of _dark magic_."

Hermione heard their faint giggles and the clatter of their heels retreating as the bathroom door swung open and closed again from their exit.

After using the loo, she creaked open her door, now in deep thought, approaching the sink to wash her hands. _I should warn him._ Pausing as the water ran through her fingers, she looked up into the mirror at her reflection. _What good will that do? He did this to himself._ She turned the tap off, walking over to dry her hands on a disposable paper towel, still debating, _It's not like she can really fire him for being late, the protocol would be to issue a warning first._ Then it occurred to her that maybe she already had. 

Not truly aware of how long she might have been standing there, Hermione was startled by someone entering the bathroom. She wadded up the paper towel and tossed it into a bin. _Don’t involve yourself, stay out of it._ As she left the bathroom, she wavered, scanning the office, her eyes studying the the stairs that led down to Draco’s office. Frustrated, she sighed to herself, _Why am I like this?_

**. . . Later that day . . .**

There was a heavy knocking at Hermione's office door and she responded, "Come in..."

Looking up, she wandlessly paused her Quick Quill to find Draco opening the door. "Granger, you wanted to see me?"

She straightened up slightly, folding her hands on her desk. "Yes. Please, come in."

When he stood waiting, Hermione gestured for him to sit down and he reluctantly obeyed, taking the guest seat in front of her desk. "Granger, this better be good. You’re aware that no one _actually_ works on the day of office parties, right?"

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. "Look Malfoy, I think you ought to… try to be on time for meetings from now on."

Draco looked away, shaking his head, clearly miffed by the topic. "Did you _seriously_ bring me here to _lecture_ me, Granger?” He stood up abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You know, you're not my boss, _right_?"

Hermione stood up to match his stance. "I certainly know that Draco but-"

"I know you _wish_ you could be, so you can have some kind of _control_ over me-"

Again, that wave of heat radiated throughout her. "That is _not_ why I-"

A knock at the already opened door interrupted her, and Blaise popped his head in. "Hey you two, at it again? Sorry, just going to steal Draco. We're about to leave for the Christmas do."

Draco glanced back at Blaise, then back toward Hermione,

"We done here, Granger? Don't be late, blah blah blah..." He wafted his hand in the air as if to wandlessly wisp the topic aside.

As she opened her mouth to respond, he was already striding away; Blaise gave her an unsure look before he followed behind Draco. 

Hermione bit the inside of her lip, wondering if there was anyone near enough to hear her scream, or if she should place a silencing charm and just let it all out.

_Forget it, I'm never going to bother warning him again. If he could only just shut his face and let me finish!_

She fell into her chair, slightly startled when another visitor approached her door. To her relief it was only Ginny. "Hermione, you ready? Everyone is leaving, I heard the Ministry went all out this year-oh hey, what's the matter?"

"Oh nothing, just… _Malfoy_..." she grumbled under her breath.

Ginny held her bag close to her, clearly ready to leave work already; instead she politely settled in the seat Draco had briefly occupied only a minute ago. 

"Right, what happened this time?"

"I just tried to help him and-” her voice began to rise, before she caught herself, closed her eyes, and paused to take a deep breath in through her nose, letting it back out through pursed lips. Ginny didn’t deserve the rage that was beginning to explode within her. “There is no helping him, I swear!”

"Whoa, help him with what?"

Hermione caught Ginny up on the bathroom chat from Draco's boss, and Ginny appeared overly shocked by the information. "Oh, and you tried to warn him? That was actually really sweet of you."

At first Hermione was more than happy for her friend’s empathy, but she paused, inspecting Ginny’s behavior, as she appeared almost too easy in her support. Perhaps Ginny just wanted to get to the party.

"Well, it doesn't matter, he can dig his own grave, I'm not going to get my hands dirty."

Ginny stood up, leaving her bag in the chair, and walked over to Hermione, getting close enough to pet her hair gently. Hermione scrunched her nose at the gesture, as Ginny quietly spoke, "Hermione, you say the same thing, every time. Can you just admit that there is something going on there?"

Hermione edged away from Ginny’s hand, half suspicious of her, and half annoyed at how right she was. Quite possibly, Ginny was fed up with Hermione's denial, and hearing all the repetitive complaints. "Right… I just…” Letting out a moan, Hermione began to rub her forehead. “I just don't want to say it out loud. I’m not _there_ , yet.”

Sighing loudly, Ginny shifted her hand to Hermione’s shoulder. "The deepest truth burns on the way up, Hermione."

Hermione cocked her head, assessing the other witch, then chose to respond blandly, "Right, thanks for that Ginny. You're so wise."

"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he actually is."

Hermione’s hands fell onto her desk, sure that she knew what was going on. "Right, how much have you had to drink already?"

Ginny swayed, smiling lightheartedly. "To not know, is the pinnacle of imagination."

Unfortunately, her friend was only half invested in this so-called dilemma. Getting up to collect her things, she grabbed Ginny’s arm to guide her out. "Alright Socrates, let's go."


	2. Irish Pixies

Hermione led Ginny home to change into their fancy dresses and then Apparated to the office Christmas do. As they stood outside the doors of a magnificently gothic hotel, she exhaled, "Okay, ready?"

Apparently still inebriated, Ginny nodded and grinned.

"No Malfoy-talk, Ginny,” Hermione admonished. “I don't want to think of him, I just want to have fun."

Ginny bobbed her head in agreement, then immediately did the opposite, spouting, "Oh hey, did you know he lives in my apartment complex?"

"Ginny!"

"Okay, right, let's go. You look fit. Let's show you off."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though jealous that her friend had a pre-party with her department. If only Hermione’s colleagues were as enjoyable. She decided to allow herself more drinks tonight so that she could relax.

Opening the doors to the lobby, they found a sign propped up reading:

“Please Apparate responsibly” 

There was a detailed disclaimer underneath as well, no doubt about how the company does not approve of the use of magic while drinking and would not be held responsible if a witch or wizard disregarded this warning. Hermione had seen the sign quite often, usually in front of pubs in Diagon Alley. Everyone knew it was not wise to spell while intoxicated. She stopped, belatedly realizing that she Apparated with Ginny here; though Ginny was always good at it, she chastised herself, it did not make it okay. She made a mental promise that they would just have to get home the good ol’ Muggle way tonight. Two drinks would give her enough buzz to let her forget all her work stress, or at least a certain someone. 

As they entered the hotel, it was clear where the holiday party was taking place, as they passed the intricate Christmas decorations that she had come to expect the Ministry to provide for such an event. It nearly reminded her of Hogwarts Hall at Christmas, but without the long rows of wooden tables. As they walked, stationary Christmas trees glowed ahead of them, guiding them into an even larger room. This was when she began to recognize certain coworkers who never dressed this well on a work day. Though, some did arrive in tacky Christmas pullovers, and some with reindeer antlers on their heads.

Perking up, Ginny pointed to the bar, pulling Hermione’s arm to meet Harry and Ron there. Both women swiftly received compliments from Harry, with the addition of a kiss on the cheek for Ginny. Ron took a sip of his pint as he scanned Hermione, possibility thinking he was being smooth about it. Ginny noticed and slapped his arm for his obviousness, and he returned her aggression with annoyance for spilling some of his beer. 

It was the same anytime the four of them went out, Hermione realized with a shake of her head. Ron tried his best to be friendly when Hermione dressed up, but there was always an element of surprise in his study of her. Hermione interpreted it as his judgment on the type of dresses she wore - it was partially out of character for her to show so much skin. Though, sometimes she wondered if he was reconsidering their relationship. They had parted ways long ago, never wanting to ruin their friendship over love ever again. Ginny clearly found it annoying, wanting him to either go for it, or to finally stop gawking. 

Hermione casually took one of the champagne drinks lined up at the bar, scanning the room to see who had attended. A bright shimmering dress across the room caught her attention, and to no surprise, it was Nora, and it reminded Hermione of the gossip in bathroom from earlier that day. She seemed to enjoy dressing in bright colors or anything that would draw attention to her body. It was nothing special really, until she saw who had just approached her with a drink. Draco’s Christmas robes appeared dull next to Nora’s dress. His robes were black with a light green trim that she guessed was his idea of conforming to the holiday spirit. He stepped closer to Nora and she whispered into his ear, and Hermione had to look away. As a waiter walked by with a tray full of colorful drinks, not caring what was in them, she snuck two before they breezed past. 

Ginny reached her hand out, expecting that one was for herself, but Hermione only noticed after she had emptied the second glass. She winced from the burn of the drink she had never had before. At first it tasted like strawberries but moments later, it was chocolate. It was delightful, and she had to hold back from asking the next passing waiter for another. Instead she turned to stack the two glasses she had gulped down onto the bar as Harry interjected, "Hermione?"

She dabbed the corner of her lips with her finger, as she glanced up to Harry, then to Ron as they appeared concerned. “What?” she barked, "I can't drink?” She pointed accusingly at Ginny. “ _ She  _ already started. I’m simply catching up."

A smile grew upon Ron’s face at Hermione's belligerence. "Yes, let's drink! Bartender, eight Irish Pixies please!"

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron’s blatant encouragement. "Whoa Ron, I heard those are  _ really _ strong."

The bartender did not seem phased, uncorking floating bottles and wandlessly mixing a slew of liquids in a clear container. As the brew mixed, small sparks appeared and swirled until they settled into an alternating rainbow of colors. Before she knew it, he was pouring the drink into small Christmas shot glasses and she swore that after every tiny bubble popped, a tiny pixie giggle escaped. Concluding that it was her imagination, she watched as the bartender finished lining them up on the edge of the bar. Ginny grabbed the first, holding it into the air for a toast, of sorts. "A pixie's a pixie, no matter how small!" she saluted them, tipping the drink back before waiting for a response.

Harry held his small glass partially in the air. "Ginny, when did you get  _ this _ drunk? I was literally with you all day, until you went back to your department-”

Ginny smiled and began to twist her hips, causing her dress to shimmy. Harry slowly realized, “Oh, your department pre-party. I thought we discussed that those weren’t-”

Before he could finish, Ginny tipped Harry’s glass toward his mouth, interrupting his lecture. Obediently, he took the shot. Ron glanced over to Hermione and they exchanged a knowing smile, downing theirs as well. Before the taste of the drink had a chance to register, Ginny was pressing the second round into Hermione’s hand. This time the quartet of friends knocked them back simultaneously. Pausing, they all squinted, like they had just eaten a rotten Bertie Botts Bean, until a second later, the taste altered, leaving a delightful cherry candy flavor behind.

Harry appeared relieved. "Wow, that was… actually delicious.”

Ginny playfully tapped her finger on Harry's nose. "Wait a few minutes, it will hit you. That's how the pixies get'cha!"

It looked as if Harry was about to grab Ginny and take her elsewhere, but selfishly, Hermione did not want her friends to be snogging in a corner so soon. She needed a girlfriend near her tonight, so she tugged at Ginny’s arm, allowing the liquid courage to take hold. “Ginny, let’s go walk the party."

Ron shouted after them, "Wait, you're both leaving us?"

Ginny disregarded her brother’s concern, calling back as she continued to stride arm in arm with Hermione, "I need to show off my’girl! Plus look, there's dancing over there, right next to that reindeer." 

Hermione snickered at Ginny’s comment at the ridiculous reindeer antlers on someone’s head, that happened moved in sync with the hand gestures of the wearer. Maybe tonight would not be so bad. She could do with being tipsy and goofing off with her best friend. Simple, clean fun.


	3. Mingle Mangled

Ginny hooked into Hermione's arm and they made the rounds among their co-workers, never lingering too long with any certain person. Hermione felt more confident; perhaps the drinks in her system had encouraged her desire to be noticed. After all, she took the effort to fix her hair up and finally wore that slinky black dress that sat in the corner of her closet. She was not too tipsy to see that everyone they had passed gave them a double take. Though upon second glance, she found heads bent low in whisper, and could not determine the meaning of it. This was the beginning of the night’s paranoia - perhaps she had gone too far. Maybe her heels were a bit too high, or her dress a bit too short. Ginny’s level of intoxication might have altered her idea of Hermione’s style when she had asked her opinion earlier. 

As they approached a large wooden floor next to the dj, Hermione loosened her grip on Ginny, who was determined to dance. Hermione stood on the edge of the dance area in hesitation, as not many coworkers had begun to collect there just yet. The floating speakers beat out bouncy Christmas songs, some she recognized, and some that were slightly less nostalgic to her own Muggle childhood. Ginny seemed confident enough, dancing with the sparse amount of coworkers, most likely from her department. Soon, Hermione’s nerves began to loosen at Ginny’s obnoxious dance moves, likely just to make her laugh and encourage her to join.

As she giggled to herself, she felt a presence approach her to the right. Before she even turned to acknowledge him, she already recognized the cologne and how her heart began to pulse when ever he was near.

"How drunk is she?"

Hermione exhaled, finally looking up to Draco for a second, curious why he would come over to her when they were _just_ bickering in her office hours ago. Attempting to be polite, she replied, keeping her eye on Ginny, "Oh, she’s bladdered. Top it off with the Irish Pixie shots we just took." 

Hermione figured this would blow him away, perhaps give him a different view of her, but she was disappointed by his low key response.

"Oh, any more than two and you've lost your night."

Hermione nodded, standing as still as she could; he was somewhat close to her, even though there was plenty of room to stand. Magical mistletoe fluttered about, threatening to pause above couples, and her heart raced. The Ministry supplied them last year as well, apparently the charmed mistletoe could sense adrenaline and heartbeats between people standing together. How embarrassing would that be if it had approached them, or how telling would it be if it did not? She guessed that he was completely calm and the mistletoe would never even come close. 

She tried to filter her thoughts, think of something else. Perversely, her mind hovered on the topic from earlier, when she tried to warn him of his tardiness. The feeling of not finishing her conversation unsettled her. It was a compulsion - to finish her point on a very important topic. She knew it would be a relief to her if she could just say it and be done. 

As she began to speak, she was interrupted by Nora’s perky voice. "Hi, Hermione!"

Hermione respectfully nodded. Now there was no way she could tell him what this very women had been discussing in the ladies room earlier that day. She could not tell Draco that Nora was hoping for him to get fired, just to get a piece of him before he left. Then Hermione’s thoughts trailed,  _ Why would Malfoy even do anything with her, just because he was upset from being fired? _ Pity or sympathy hardly seemed things that would do it for someone like Draco Malfoy.

Thankfully Blaise had also approached them, and she felt less like a third wheel. "Hermione, lookin nice tonight! Care to dance?"

Hermione swallowed hard; there were still not enough people dancing for her comfort level. Not that it had stopped Ginny. When she glanced over to her friend, she found that there were a few more people taking part. Curiously, Harry was not one of them. Looking back at the other end of the room where Ron and Harry had been last, she caught the gaze Draco was directing at Blaise. 

It took her a moment to decide on what it had meant. Blaise’s grin to Draco disappeared when he made eye contact with Hermione. She studied him, and decided to reach her hand out, past Draco, to accept his invitation. Taking a peek back to see Draco’s reaction, Nora was whispering to him and he was looking into the distance, taking a sip from a martini glass. So perhaps Malfoy did not care at all.  _ Fine,  _ she thought; but her denial was doing a poor job at convincing the rest of her mind.

Hermione was relieved that the music was now upbeat and grew louder as more people approached. Blaise ended up dancing between with her  _ and _ Ginny, which made her feel more comfortable, especially because Blaise was such a good dancer. There were moments when Blaise had gotten a bit too close for comfort, and she hoped that Ginny would steal her away and go on another walk around the party. 

Soon Blaise had begun to press against her, and she dared to look up at him, but his eyes were looking elsewhere, and she followed them out to where Draco stood. They were gesturing toward each other, until finally Draco abruptly stepped on the now crowded dance floor and pulled Blaise away. 

Hermione looked to Ginny, but she did not look concerned, still dancing and twirling to the music. She tapped her friend, attempting to speak over the music to let her know what was going on. Ginny nodded as if she knew what Hermione had said, but Hermione guessed she was not really hearing her. All too curious, Hermione followed where Blaise and Draco had gone. They were only a few steps away from the ruckus of the dance floor, and she knew they did not even notice her standing close enough to hear their conversation. In fact, they did not even see the mistletoe hovering above them, and she concluded that it was seriously flawed, because Draco definitely did not look ‘in love’ with Blaise at the moment. 

Draco released Blaise’s arm, then swatted the mistletoe away in anger, "What do you think you're doing, mate?"

Blaise’s growing smirk did not seem to match Draco’s anger. "If you want her, go for it. Stop tiptoeing around her and just do something, anything!”

"It doesn't  _ just  _ work that way - not with  _ her _ ." Draco looked away as he ran his hand through his hair, making it less tidy than when she had first seen him.

Blaise shook his head, then tried to regain Draco’s eye contact by placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well, I'm gonna show her a good time then. You have Nora, what's the problem?"

Flinging his arm away, Draco burst out, "You're doing this on purpose!"

Blaise stepped back, placing his hands in his pockets as he cavalierly replied, "You bet your arse I am, so stop me."

The booming bass of the music meant Hermione had to strain to hear their words, in an attempt to interpret it all. Having a fuzzy mind from Pixie shots and a crowd of coworkers eager to dance pushing past her only made it worse. Either way, she concluded,  _ this _ was an official Ministry holiday Christmas party, not a pub, so she decided to step in, "Hey-"

Draco clenched his jaw when he saw her. "What Granger? Is there another thing you want to warn me about? Can I not shout at Blaise now?"

A look of disappointment swept across Blaise’s face. "Why do you do it mate? She's standing right here and you still can't-"

Draco gave him a sharp shove, cutting off his friend in mid-sentence. "Shut it, Blaise!"

Hermione was fuming at his response to her. How dare he speak so condescendingly to her when she was trying to help him? Twice now she was unable to let Draco know what was going on, and she was not in the mood to hold back, quickly spouting, "Jadis wants to fire you and Nora wants to take advantage after! I was trying to help! But there's not a spell in the  _ world _ that can help you!"

About to leave, Hermione paused from embarrassment to notice a few passing colleagues had witnessed her shouting. Draco only winced from the so-called news, looking past her. Hermione turned to see what he was looking at, to find that Nora had the company of another wizard, hovering mistletoe on point this time. The scene made Granger sound completely daft as Nora was clearly not attempting to get with Draco that night, or at least not at the moment. 

"I don't need your help, Granger!"

The rise in his voice had more people pausing to see what was happening. Hermione felt her subconscious telling her not to engage, but the drinks from earlier were giving her permission to pursue this battle. "Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Malfoy!"

He barked a laugh and snapped back, "I have plenty of witches who can fulfill that need,  _ thanks _ !"

Something about this really hit a nerve with her; it seemed that every witch in the office fancied Draco, and they hardly kept a low profile about it. It had secretly eaten away at her, mostly because she concluded that any one of them were more attractive than her, and were more likely to engage in any of his desires. She grew vengeful, attempting to be creative in her retort, "Well don’t overexert your right hand tonight! You’re useless without your wand!”

Not completely sure she was making any sense, she found reward in the crowd’s response, as they gasped dramatically. It was all she needed to confirm that it was a strong enough insult, even for her. It was a brief victory though, because as usual Draco had something ready for her.

"Oh?” He crossed his arms tight, taking a step toward her. “And where’s the long line of wizards knocking at  _ your  _ door?” Snorting arrogantly and blatantly scanning the length of her, he asked, “Who’d be brave enough to crawl up  _ that  _ cobweb?"

Again, the crowd gasped, now fully encircling them, and Hermione felt pressure building for a better one. Huffing proudly, and mirroring his stance as she crossed her arms defiantly, she persisted, “Right, because shagging any witch that learns of your inheritance is so  _ original _ .” She tucked a hair behind her ear, and she lifted her chin higher, her fuzzy conscious thinking it was just the right move to express her pride. “I’m single, by choice!”

Malfoy stepped forward, leaning in towards her, cooly responding, “Not  _ your  _ choice.”

This time there was more of a deafening silence from their little audience, concluding that his insult held the strongest blow, and she nearly slapped him for it. There was a tingling prick behind her eyes - partly from humiliation, partly from his truth. Then she found a small bit of courage and assessed everyone witnessing this spat. Ideally, they would never know that his words made her crumble inside. Did they all agree, is that why they were quiet? She held a bit of hope that they did not even hear him.

Attempting to hold back a tear, or cursing him with her wand, her face burned, and her fury bubbled in her throat. When she looked back up to him, Hermione swore she caught a split second where he was looking to the floor, and she dared to think he was ashamed. It was brief though; when he looked over to a group of coworkers, and raised his eyebrows in such a way, that she guessed someone beyond her view had given him confirmation that he was the ultimate winner in this bickering match. 

The bass of the music appeared to be in slow motion, and in these few seconds anything feelings she had ever built over recent years about Malfoy was now laced with regret and self loathing. Why did she think he would ignore the influence of the outside world, and want to give her a chance? Why did she think that he would ignore his arrogance even if she had witnessed the contrary, if only in small moments that they had alone? So many times she wished she could kick everyone out, to see what he was really like on his own, free from expectations. But now, the snarky expression he had on his face made her feel otherwise. He was older now, what could possibly be holding him back from being a better person?

When she found his eyes watching her, she suspected she was taking too long to retaliate. Snapping out of it, though not in any state to be masterful, she dropped her arms, spouting, "You're an arrogant prat!"

"You're a self-righteous hag!"

Hermione scowled as hard as she could. This was a waste of time; he was never going to change or be anything she ever dared to hope he would be. Shaking her head in disappointment, she glanced once more into his eyes, surprised to discover how close she stood to him. There was this awful, sinking feeling that hit her all over - despair. It made her turn away, telling herself not to allow the tears to fall in front of everyone; internally ashamed for spending so much of her time ever thinking of him. 

Every step she took away from him, past the crowd of coworkers, made her wish there was a spell for disapperating all her over indulgent thoughts she had of him. Draco’s eyes - step. Draco’s hair - step. Draco’s lips - step. Frustration grew, as even her wish could not be fully imagined because a series of coworkers streamed past her, slightly derailing her path, in their attempt to make it to the dance floor for their favorite Christmas rock song.

She needed to get out of there before she burst. Hastily, she pushed through the crowd. Though in her pride, she shouted back at him, her voice cracking from trying to be heard over the clamor, "Enjoy your lonely night, with... your hand!" 

As she delved further into the crowd to squeeze past everyone, avoiding eye contact or anyone telling her to join them, she faintly heard his answer,

"Don't expect I'll be thinking about you!"

She kept walking, internally admitting to herself that his comment was likely true. Why would Draco Malfoy ever be thinking about  _ her _ ? Hermione's head began to noticeably throb, in the calm of the tables away from the dance floor. Stumbling over a chair at an empty table, she looked up to scan for Ginny, curious if she had caught their little show. She rubbed her forehead.  _ This will be all everyone talks about at the office. _ Taking a deep breath, she made it her focus to walk without tripping in her heels, to where she had last seen Ron and Harry. 

**. . . After Party . . .**

Eventually she made it, her hands gripped the edge of the bar for safety; she silently congratulated herself for making it without stumbling. There was a brash blinking of multi-colored lights draped across the bar. Wincing, she did not see Harry and Ron, and her mood darkened, offended that her friends were not waiting there. Unable to vent to them, she began to feel lonely and betrayed. Self-deprecating thoughts entered her mind.  _ I bet everyone is on Malfoy’s side. Why would Harry and Ron still want to be friends with me?  _ She flashed back to her younger self-consciousness. _ They only used me for my help with Voldemort. Why else would they keep me around. I’m annoying and pathetic. And now, I’m ruining their reputation at work. After that embarrassing show, they’ll probably keep their distance.  _

Her hand bumped into a glass on top of the bar, and she clumsily caught it; a small splash of purple liquid trickled down her arm. Looking around, she checked to see if anyone had seen her blunder, and as a cover, she began to take sips of it as if it were normal. It was surprisingly refreshing, and she was not expecting it to go down so smoothly, and ended up drinking it all in one go. 

Placing the glass back on the bar, she turned to find a slightly blurry Harry. She sat up straighter to appear collected. “Oh, where were you? You left the bar.”

Harry appeared confused. “Hermione, that was over an hour ago, at least. Are you okay?”

Offended that her ruse to appear cool and collected was not working, she replied, "I'm fine, Harry!” 

It did not take her long to realize that her reaction was far from demure. To distract him, she reached for his glasses, “I remember fixing those, are they the same pair? I should just try to fix your eyes...” 

Harry swatted her hands away as she tried to grab his glasses. "Er, no- Hermione, let’s go get some air.” He settled her hand down as she insistently reached for her wand.

“It’ll be quick, why did we not think to do that before?” She snorted as Harry flashed a tight smile to a passing coworker. 

He whispered, closer to her, “Hermione, let’s take a walk.”

Hermione tried to run her hand through her messy curls, forgetting it was not in its usual state. Clearing her throat, she said, "Yes, the air in here is sticky and full of pixies.” She licked her lips, and closed her eyes for a moment. “Harry, do you know where the ladies is?” She snorted again. Feeling the need to clarify in case Harry was unsure of what she meant. “Not any lady, I mean that place where the ladies go.”

Then she felt his hand on her arm gently tugging her away from the bar.

"Yes, Hermione, I know what you mean. This way.”

Once Harry had left her to stumble into the ladies room, her heels appeared to be outrageously loud, clicking against the dark tile floor. She began to step lightly as not to disturb anyone in the loo. Casually, she waved at someone passing until she realized it was her own reflection in the mirror.

Hermione approached a sink feeling foolish, leaning heavily against it. Somehow, she needed to focus on the simple task of breathing. She glanced up to see her reflection again, realizing that she had ruined her hair when she tried to run her hands through it. Ashamed, she looked down at the white porcelain before her. She made an attempt to analyze the memory of her row with Draco off the dance floor, but it kept slipping away. Would she want to keep it? Staring into the sink, she wondered if it filled with water, could it be used as a pensieve? Would that work? 

There was an uncomfortable warm feeling in her gut, and she just wanted to go home. She looked up into the mirror, talking to herself out loud and pointing a finger at her reflection, “No apparating, Hermione!” 

She jolted to hear someone step closer to the entrance door. Wiping some smudges of makeup from under her eye, clearing the worst of it, she made her way to exit. Keeping her head low, and darting out, she accidentally nudged the person who had been making their way in. Relieved to be away from everyone, she was taken back to hear a woman’s voice calling from the ladies room, “You can have him.”

Hermione paused, turning to see who had spoken, but the door to the ladies room had already swung closed. The voice sounded a bit like Nora, though she could not be too sure in her state. What did that mean anyway? 

Her mind attempted to hold that thought, as she absentmindedly passed Harry to get some air outside, aiming to grab a cab home. There was a cool breeze that she was grateful for as she scanned the street to find an available taxi. Seeing an untaken one, she nearly slipped on an icy patch in her heels, and her hands shot out dramatically to balance, grateful that she did not fall. She exhaled then looked up to see if there were any witnesses, only to spot Draco entering  _ her _ cab. Frustrated she grunted, "Ugh, why?"

Clearly, she spoke louder than intended, and rather than stepping into the cab, Draco turned toward her. In defiance she dramatically pivoted on her heel, forgetting the ice; this time she did not catch herself, but someone else did. 

It took her a moment, but as that someone lifted her upright, she balanced and froze in place. Slightly dizzy, it took her longer than usual to guess who had caught her. Just to be sure she turned, and her confirmation only pushed her anger to the edge. “I’m  _ fine _ , Malfoy!”

He responded more quietly than she expected, especially after their little show earlier. "Granger, you can hardly keep your eyes open. How much did you drink?"

What was this sudden concern over her? She looked around, to see all of the other cabs had driven off and no other colleagues in view. “Figures,” she mumbled to herself. Minus an audience, she guessed that Draco had no need to perform, specifically on his disgust for her. 

She gave him a glare, and pushed past him as a new cab had approached, but she struggled to open the door. Finally, with more force, she swung it open and scrambled inside as if she had won the claim on the car. 

Reaching for the inside door handle to complete her win, she paused when the cabby directed his shout past her, "She's smashed. Is she with you?”

Hermione was dumbstruck and glanced to Draco who was waiting calmly outside. As she began to reply to the cabby, he continued to talk past her, at Draco, like she was a child, “Not likely to clean up another bleeding mess for Christmas, am I? You come with or get her out.” 

The cabby turned forward in contempt as if to wait for Draco’s decision, and Hermione could only sit there, completely infuriated. She was not some child, she was an adult, and above all, her fate was not to be decided by Draco Malfoy! 

Fed up, she began to step out of the cab, aiming to get another, but instead her path was blocked by Draco sitting down and slamming the car door shut. 

Hermione scowled, as Draco’s figure had pushed his way in, and she nearly climbed over him in rebelliously, but felt foolish when she realized there was also a door on her side. As she reached for the handle, the driver had already begun to drive and Draco grabbed her arm to prevent her from opening the door of a moving car. 

She felt like a prisoner and wanted to scream. Exhaling, she guessed that she would be home soon and at the very least this horrible night could end. There was a dizzy feeling as the cab moved dramatically down streets, taking sharp corners. She found some relief upon placing her head against the cool window. Shutting her eyes, she unconsciously kicked off her heels and adjusted her legs onto the seat 

A sigh from Draco accompanied a faint mumble of, "Come on, Granger."

She felt herself slide down, just wanting to take a short rest, but Draco’s body blocked her legs from getting comfortable. Every once in awhile she opened her eyes, lights blurring past as they drove. One moment she thought she was going to be sick, so she sat up abruptly. When the moment passed, she relaxed and laid down again. This time the door was softer and lower, and she was able to stretch out better. She hummed, expecting to take a quick nap, nearly forgetting where she was until someone had spoken to her. 

"Granger, where do you live? I have to give him your address."

Irritated, she wondered, why would he need this information? Obstinately she retorted, “Shut up, Malfoy.” 

Attempting to close her eyes to rest again, she heard two voices talking back and forth, but ignored them, and instead snuggled against the oddly softened door. She praised herself for wandlessly making the door this way in her state, even if she had not recalled doing so. Perhaps she should have tried harder as the door handle was pressing into her shoulder now. As she shifted, so did the cushioned door, and she could hear Draco clear his throat and whisper her name. What was his problem, why would he not just let her sleep? 

There was an abrupt stop, and Hermione sat up lazily. “Come on, Granger.”

There was a pull on her upper arm and she groaned at the feeling of cold air against her skin. Finally able to stand, she looked up to the large building, recognizing Ginny’s flat. Trying to recall how she had gotten there, she closed her eyes for a moment guessing that Ginny had found her and took her back to her flat.

An arm wrapped around hers and at the very least understanding that it was not Ginny, and recalling that Harry now lived here as well, she guessed it was him holding her. She kept her eyes on her feet, her stockings becoming wet from leftover snow melting on the concrete. “I’m so glad you moved in here, I’ve always liked this place.”

There was no response from Harry, and she did not see Ginny. Maybe she was still at the party. Perhaps Harry was irritated and ignoring her, after all she did not feel his usual friendly presence. 

As they entered the building, she closed her eyes against the bright lobby and then the lift lights, only opening them to peek down to the floor, until she heard the click of a door.

Without any type of permission from her friend, she darted toward the bathroom expecting to be sick. After closing the door, she leaned against the wall as she flicked on the light. Slowly opening her eyes, she grew confused by the strange items, expecting to see all of Ginny’s products and the purple towels she secretly disliked. Instead, it looked rather tidy with more hues of gray. Perhaps when Harry moved in they altered everything. Though, it looked as if Harry had completely taken over. Hermione scanned the bottle of cologne, hanging ties, and the over abundance of hair products. Maybe Ginny had bought them for him, his hair was always a bit of a mess.

Distracted she thought, _Oh, I'm going to be sick._ Always being the more responsible one at parties meant she had never drunk this much before; Ginny would be so proud. She hoped Harry was not inconvenienced, leaving the party so early. Only then did she notice that she did not have her purse, which meant she did not have her wand. She rubbed her forehead, confused. I really must have done wandless magic on that cab door. 

Feeling faint, she realized,  _ Oh no, I was laying on Harry.  _ She looked up in the mirror in shock - that was no door handle.

Mortified that she had groped her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend no less. With that, she dramatically dropped the tile floor, her head drooped into the palms of her hands. Then the lingering scent of the purple drink that had spilled on her hands at bar made her queasy. Quickly, she sat up and heaved into the basin of the toilet. 

When she was finally finished, she sat back against the bathtub, strands of her hair sticking to her face. She could not go back out there. She worried that it would appear as if she was hitting on Harry even further if she asked him for a change of clothes.  _ I will just live in the bathroom.  _ She accepted this, and turned to lift herself against the bathtub.  _ I’ll shower, and sleep right here. It’s fine. _

After taking off her dress and stockings, holding on to anything available for balance, she stepped into the cascading water, wanting to wash off the whole of the night.  _ Maybe Harry was drunk too. Maybe he’ll forget. He knows I’m not into him, right? _ Internally, legitimizing it all, she thought about who was her type. Then the whole of the bickering match with Malfoy flooded back into the forefront of her mind. 

Reliving the mortification, she crouched down in the shower, groaning.  _ I’ll need a new job _ . Unexpectedly feeling too hot, she wanted to get out. As she grabbed for a towel, she wrapped it around herself finding comfort it its softness. They appeared all too plush and grand for Ginny’s taste, but who knows, maybe Harry wanted the fluffy towels. 

She stood there, deciding that maybe she could brave it, and ask Harry for pair of Ginny’s pajamas; perhaps crash on their couch. She creaked open the door, clinching the towel tightly around herself, peeking out to see where he could be.

It was quiet, and once again, as drunk as she was, she just did not feel Harry’s presence. Maybe he had dropped her off and went back to the party. Concluding this must be the case, she stepped out and toward Ginny’s room, or rather her and Harry’s room. Though, when she opened the door it was a closet instead. _ I must be really plastered, this is usually where her room is. _

Maybe they altered the layout with magic? Already? Then she wondered if they even knew those types of spells. Based upon the additions to The Burrow, Hermione suspected Ginny may have known enough. After padding along the hardwood floors, she finally found a bedroom, but it looked as if it merely belonged to Harry. None of Ginny’s usual items were in there and the whole room was filled with dark wood furniture. She sat on the elaborate mahogany bed curiously, and ended up laying back to take it all in. 

As she scanned the bedroom, she began to pity herself. Here her friends were moving in together, changing their flat, and she was still single and far beyond such events. The thought sent her crawling under the sheets, burying her face into the plushest pillow she had ever felt. Her wet locks of hair began to pool against it, but she did not care. She would get up soon, and cast a drying spell before they came home- “Bugger!” she interrupted her own thoughts, remembering she did not have her wand. 

Then she heard the click of a door, and she sat up, gripping her towel. “Ginny?”

She heard water running, and suspected her friend was in the bathroom. Looking around, she nearly flipped the pillow over, embarrassed to be in their bed. “Ginny, I’m so sorry.” she shouted, to enable her voice to carry into the hall.

It was quiet, only the sound of the running water travelling down the hall. She exhaled, and leaned against the backboard of the bed. After a few minutes, she heard another click of the door, and footsteps.

“Ginny, I really am sorry.”

Still no response - maybe it was Harry, maybe they were really angry at her and did not care to respond. 

She grabbed the pillow, squeezing it tightly, taking all her frustration from the night out on it, as she started to ramble, hoping her logic would gain the forgiveness of her friends.

"Ugh, it’s all Malfoy’s fault!”

Something from afar made an abrupt noise. She thought, maybe she should explain herself. 

“He just set me off today, you know? Why do I let him get to me?” Hermione childishly slapped the bed and her hands sank into the softness of the comforter. “It’s pathetic, I know. I mean even your bed smells like him!” 

She huffed loudly, and when Ginny did not reply, she continued, “Why can't he just be like that bludger brother of yours? Then I'd be over him!” Hermione paused, concluding she would just make Ginny more angry at her, “Right, I'm sorry, Ron’s your brother, that's only ok when  _ you _ say that.” 

She slumped down, really wishing she could fall asleep, but her guilt just kept eating away at her. “You're so lucky though, to be with Harry, that's… that's  _ normal, _ why can't I just like someone like that. I don’t literally mean, Harry…” She struggled to redirect her thoughts, the door handle incident in the cab circling her mind. 

There was another noise from outside, and Hermione leaned forward to listen. Maybe Harry was there whispering with Ginny, maybe they were deciding on what to say. 

“What I mean is, why do I have to like someone so… complicated. No, that’s not the word. I don’t know the word.” She sat up in the bed as if to have an epiphany. “I  _ do _ know that I want to slap the living crass out of him.” Satisfied that she had some control of what her next action would be against Malfoy, she slumped back down into the bed, suddenly realizing something and attempting to correct herself to Ginny, “Yes, done that, perhaps something different. I’ll just lay down and give it some thought.”

Her negative thoughts toward Malfoy did not go as planned, as she snuggled into the bed sheets, his scent miraculously appearing in the fabrics of Ginny and Harry’s pillows. Instead she imagined him with her, alone, where no one else could witness his wavering pride, and he could allow a different part of himself free. Though the very thoughts that she wished could apparate away, had become a habit of hers. The comfort of her nightly aspirations for Draco Malfoy, instead had her drifting off to sleep.


	4. Lucky Slytherin Shirt

**. . . Present Morning Continued . . .**

Hermione adjusted her towel as she slowly sat up in bed, hoping it would not creak and wake the slumbering Draco in the seat in the corner of the room. She studied him, his head bent forward into his hand, propped up by his elbow on the arm of the chair. All sorts of thoughts ran across her mind, while her head was pulsing and she really needed to use the loo. She was mesmerized by his bare chest, as it rose and fell at every quiet breath. The perusal left her unable to stop her comparisons to Ron, who happened to be a loud breather when sleeping. 

Was he comfortable sleeping that way? As she scanned him, she noticed his other hand dangled slightly, a cloth nearly falling off the edge of his finger tips. She edged forward to study it more, guessing it was a shirt he had yet to put on. What had stopped him? 

She could not been seen this way, she thought, only then realizing that he might have already seen her this way, last night. An exit plan formed in her mind. Flipping slightly in the bed, stretching her legs out, she quietly touched the tip of her toes to the floor. Closing her eyes tight, she hoped the floor did not creak like Ginny’s always had. Upon standing she was relieved to find it quiet, holding her towel tight as she took another step. 

She held her breath while ducking down to exit, but paused when he adjusted in the chair, noticing that he had dropped the shirt to the ground. Not remembering where her actual clothes were, or wanting to rummage through his, she dared to stretch her hand out to grab for the fallen shirt.

Swiping it across the wooden floor, she remained crouched down, then hid behind the bed to put it on.  _ There _ , she thought, until she slowly stood and the shirt just barely covered her bum. _ What? Aren’t women usually swimming in men’s shirts, what is this?  _ She stretched it downward and scanned the front, to discover the logo of Hogwarts in the corner pocket of the soft green fabric, with a worn out print of a twisting snake in the center. 

She exhaled,  _ I’m in Draco’s old Slytherin shirt? How old is this? Was he intending on wearing something this small? _

Adjusting the towel to wrap around her waist to compensate, she slowly maneuvered on the balls of her feet to make her way out of the room. Taking in a deep breath once she felt far enough away, she darted to his bathroom. Looking around the space again, she nodded to herself. Ginny did not in fact redecorate. 

Reaching to close the door, she worried the full closure of it would wake him, so she was quick to use the loo, and cringed at pressing the handle to flush, wondering if that would also wake him. Luckily it was quiet; relieved, she took a moment to study everything again with the new perspective of it all belonging to Draco. Her heart fluttered, and she felt foolish, but everything appeared more interesting now. 

Quietly turning on the tap to wash, she noticed the mirror had a latch, and opened it to search for some type of potion for her headache. The mirror on the cabinet caused her to notice the reflection of her dress and stockings hanging behind her. Gasping, it hit her, and the blood drained from her face.  _ Did he do that or did I?  _ A second of panic arose as she strained to find her knickers. 

Fumbling with her dress and stockings, her knickers softly dropped to the floor.  _ Did he see- or touch-  _ Her head fell into her hands. What was happening? How did she even get here? 

Hermione’s head pulsed in pain even more.  _ Breath Hermione, get some headache relieving potion, figure this out… breath. _

She turned to the mirrored cabinet again, and as she flicked the latch, a series of bottles flooded out and clinked against the tile floor. She crouched down immediately to pick them up, her towel around her waist loosened and eventually fell around her feet as she hastily tried to place them all back. 

As she attempted to line them up and organize them in a rush, she happened to notice one that she had not recognized. Was it homemade? The other bottles had labels seen from shops in Diagon Alley, everyday ones such as mouth wash and lotions, and Draco certainly had enough hair salve to start his own shop. The one that drew her attention though, was small, and an unusual clear, pear shaped bottle. She leaned in to study the light blue liquid, twisting it to find the hand written label, only able to read a few ingredients such as moonstone and hellebore powder before she was startled by a noise nearby.

She turned her head and jumped back, giving a short yelp to see Draco standing in the doorway of the bathroom. 

The bass of his voice sounded worn and unconcerned. "Nice shirt Granger."

Embarrassed at gripping the bottle she placed it back, her stretching put it back reminded her of her nudity from below where the shirt did not cover. She quickly crouched down to grab the towel, frozen in place, stuttering over her words.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was at Ginnys and-"

"Yes, I know. You had a lot to say to 'Ginny' last night.”

He rubbed his head as he walked away, speaking back, "Hold on, I need to get something to concentrate."

Hermione exhaled briefly thinking,  _ Oh thank the gods - he has some potions. _

Hermione, trying to collect herself, shouted into the hallway, "Look, I'm sorry about- you know the party, the insults...” She bit her lip to stop herself from continuing, quickly remembering the ridiculous and altogether tacky insult about him and his right hand. It was in front of everyone at work, and she guessed that, besides the ugly row between her and Malfoy, she was certain that all her progress as a professional had gone down the drain from that juvenile insult.

When she saw Draco come back, still shirtless, and only in pajama bottoms, he handed her a pair of plaid boxer shorts, responding, "Joke’s on you Granger, I'm ambidextrous."

She cringed,  _ he remembered _ . Though confused as to why he was handing her boxers, she absentmindedly took them from him anyway. When she looked up to him, curious as to what they were for, his soft grin began to fade and his hands were free of any potions she was hoping for.

"I thought you were getting something to help you concentrate."

"I did."

He raised his eyebrows, nodding to the boxers in her hands and it took her a moment to finally connect the dots. She gasped, tightening the towel around her waist. She crouched down to step into them and once she stood, he walked into the bathroom with her, and she was unsure of where to move. Ignoring the mess of bottles on the floor, he reached over her to the cabinet to get something out. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment, hoping to ride out this embarrassment quickly. She wondered if she should move out of his way was he strained to stretch for something on a top shelf, but if she had, she would bump into him, so she just stood still, taking in the heat of his body so close to hers.

Unable to resist temptation, she reopened her eyes, taking in a full view of his chest, before scanning down to his stomach to the slight ridge lines that seemed to direct the eye lower past his navel. There, she studied the perfect trail of hair, darker than she expected. She followed them down as they disappeared past the waist of his pajama bottoms, where the fabric began to contour around his- 

Hermione closed her eyes again.  _ That was not Harry’s door handle in the cab _ . 

She felt a rush of heat creep into her face as Draco finished whatever he was taking so long to do.  _ Merlin, he needs to put a shirt on. Is he doing this on purpose? I bet he knows how beautiful he is. _

He made a gentle grunting noise when he finally retrieved what he needed, and it made Hermione exhale a deep breath against his chest. Maybe he didn’t notice. Her heart was pounding at being this close to him, and the lack of clothing between them. When he was done, he had given them more room, only his hand and a vial of headache relieving potion between them.

"Thanks," she whispered quietly. Expecting that he would leave now, she felt even warmer when he didn’t. 

She stared at the bottle as if she did not know what to do with it, until he whispered back, "Green looks good on you."

A compliment? No, it was a joke, there is no way he would compliment her, though there were no witnesses, so it was possible. 

Trying to find some equally vague and alluding response she managed to whisper, still staring at the bottle, “You could do with a shirt."

She looked up when he gave a small snort. "Yes well, a thief stole mine."

Then he walked out of the room, and she allowed her body to relax, finally opening the bottle to take a sip. She closed her eyes, imagining the potion taking effect, when he appeared in the doorway again, this time with a shirt on.

"Better?"

Hermione gave a gentle smile, thinking to herself,  _ No, not better _ . 

She only nodded, still unable to think of what to say next. He reached for the potion, taking a sip for himself, and she guessed that maybe he had drank quite a bit last night as well. Remembering, she queried, "Do you know where my wand is?"

She glanced at her perfectly hung dress, her head becoming more clear, confirming that she was not the one to hang it, so did he? Perhaps he had a house elf. 

Draco only replied, "No, did you leave it at the party?"

Shaking her head, determined to find it, she passed Draco to look around the flat for her wand, before she would likely change back into last night’s clothes. “I don’t remember.”

She attempted to retrace her steps, though there was a moment of wondering if it was rude to be rummaging around his flat, until Draco shouted after her, "Breakfast?"

She paused, and stood up straight.  _ Doesn't he want me to leave? _

Hearing the clinking of pans in the kitchen, she slowly crept up to witness Draco Malfoy cooking.

"Coffee?"

Hermione stood there arms crossed, remembering she was not wearing a bra, and just watched. He used his wand, but still, there was buttered toast, and eggs were actually sizzling on a skillet. Unaware if he was even watching her, she slowly shook her head no for his offer at coffee.

“You sure?” He paused, beginning to pour some into a mug. “You know I think we’re the only ones that use that massive coffee contraption at work, everyone else goes for tea.”

Hermione kept quiet, still contemplating how long he expected her to stay.

Sighing, he stopped and turned to her. "I have cream, Granger."

She looked up to his eyes, shocked that he remembered how she took her coffee. Then a simple question popped into her mind,  _ Why does he have creamer at all, since he takes his black? _

In her confusion, she gave up the persue on her on her wand, slowly nodding in submission to his coffee offer.

He turned away to continue, replying, “You really won't drink coffee without cream, will you?" 

Back in familiar territory, she became defensive, approaching a stool near a higher countertop. 

"Well, the cream makes the coffee bearable.” 

Draco regarded her for a moment without replying, then turned back to continue wandlessly flipping an egg. 

She sighed and pulled herself up onto the stool, to continue her explanation, “The coffee has its purpose - the boost, the bitterness, its heat. But the cream, well it makes the coffee soft and smooth, I just… I like both - the combination, makes it perfect."

As she finished, he placed a mug of steaming coffee on the counter in front of her, cream and all. He only made eye contact with her for a moment; it was nearly earth-shattering to see him cooking and serving her. Maybe this was some sort of dream. Perhaps he felt bad about last night as well, or maybe he just wanted to be on an even footing with a colleague so it was less awkward at work. 

As he turned back to continue plating food, she took a sip of coffee and was finally focused enough to really inspect his flat. There was a small christmas tree on his window sill, and that too shocked her a bit. Perhaps it was a gift. Even so, she closed her eyes, imagining Draco Malfoy’s sentiment in actually purchasing a tiny tree. She took in the wonderful taste of coffee and cream that she had just described, and could not let go of the thought that he had creamer.

Draco walked past her to a small dining table where he placed the plates down. She took the hint, and hopped off the stool and moved toward the table. As she nearly sat down, she noticed him holding a chair and it took her a moment to realize he was holding it for her. She swiftly changed course, and cautiously sat in it. Moving around the table, he settled in a chair across from her. His table etiquette felt misplaced, especially since she was merely in his boxers and Hogwarts shirt. Her heart raced at this thought.  _ He wore these, his body was once in this shirt, these boxers. _ She stared at her plate of toast and eggs until she heard the clink of his utensils.

She looked up to watch him casually take a bite, he was so close, and so,  _ normal _ . Promptly she flashed back to her ramblings last night… _ normal _ . Why is that word- Then her stomach flipped. How much of her rambling to ‘Ginny’ did he hear?

She swallowed hard, and tried to play it cool, taking a small nibble of toast, until a crumb or two fell down the neck of the shirt and landed on her breasts. Lightly pulling at the shirt as if it was enough to vanish the crumbs, she looked up to see him watching her. Embarrassed she quickly fumbled, knocking the fork off her plate. "I'll clean your shirt.” 

She guessed it might have meant a lot to him, appearing slightly vintage now. When he only smiled and took another bite of toast, it occurred to her that maybe he kept it around for ‘guests’ seeing as it might be too small on him now. Reflecting on the series of women that were eager to date him, she spoke under her breath, “You know, so it’s available to your other guests.”

Draco nearly choked on his coffee as he took a sip. He cleared his throat and set his coffee mug down, drips of it pooled on the table, but it made her feel better about her crumbs. 

"Granger, you think I'd let just  _ anyone _ wear my lucky Slytherin shirt?”

Hermione paused, realizing that her mouth was slightly dropped open, and before she could speak he tilted his head back to examine her, “Oh wait - you stole it.” He grinned and picked up his mug, “But seriously, it looks good on you…” Raising the mug to his lips, he mumbled into it, "Bet you'd look better with it off."

Hermione’s nose flared and without a thought, she reached across the table to to slap his arm. How could he be this way? Which part of him was true to his character? Was he all of these traits? 

"Ow! You're so violent, Granger!"

Fed up with the confusion, she concluded, "Only towards  _ you. _ " 

Draco’s coffee had made more of a mess on the table, and she took a sip of her own feeling a slight victory in whatever game this was. He nodded in agreement, as if he completely understood, and they both became quiet and somehow more relaxed as they finished their meal. 

As he stood, collecting their plates, she did not know what to do. Was it time to leave now? Would they conclude this was some, one-off? 

He passed her and went to sit down on his brown leather couch, and the sun from his windows peeked through. She stood there awkwardly thinking she should go change back into her clothes and politely excuse herself.

Then, he adjusted himself, sitting forward, and mumbled something as if he was speaking to the floor. She looked over to him confused, “Excuse me?”

When he remained quiet, she walked around the couch, concerned now that his face was in his hands.

“Malfoy?”


	5. Brew

Hermione stood there in front of him, waiting for an explanation for why he suddenly looked so defeated. Then just like that, his hands dropped and he looked up to her, “I said, I’m sorry.”

Hermione did not know what to do, as she stared into the pale gray eyes watching her. She had to look away from the intensity of the moment, and managed to take a seat on the couch. As they sat next to each other in silence, she wondered if he just wanted peace between them, or perhaps more. She gazed at the fabric of his boxers that she wore; it was so overly intimate and it was only hitting her then.

Finally he spoke again, more softly, "The potion is for anxiety. It’s also why I’m always late to meetings.”

Hermione peeked up at him. He had in fact noticed her scanning the unusual blue potion in his cabinet. Though, it did not completely explain why he acted in such a way toward her. She could only respond quietly, “Okay.”

When he did not say anymore, she began to stand and he looked up to her quickly in concern. “Granger…”

She kept her eyes on the little christmas tree, rather than chancing a look at him. It was clear he was feeling guilty, then again, she guessed he would not be like this in front of others later on. “It’s… Okay, Malfoy. I should go.”

Her heart sank when he did not respond. Walking to the bathroom to collect her dress, Hermione tried to remember where her heels were. She hugged her dress tightly, walking toward the front door to find her heels, feeling his eyes on her as she searched. 

“Granger, you don’t have to go.”

She paused from scanning the floor, and looked up at him. Fed up with his confusing behavior, the distance he created when they were around their peers, versus the heat of when they were alone, caused her to burst.

“Why would I stay, Malfoy? We aren’t friends!”

The echo of her voice bounced off the walls and reverberated over and over again in her mind. She only watched as he stood staring at her; she could sense he had a reply but he was holding back. “What? Say it! Say something like you would in front of everyone, go ahead!”

Nearly shaking, she stood waiting for him to finally respond. As he glanced away, clenching his jaw, she nearly shouted at him again, he snarled , “I don’t need your pity!”

Hermione closed her mouth, anything she was about to say did not even fall into the realm of this topic. What did that mean anyway? Her response sounded more like a puff of air. “What?”

Walking toward her, he followed up with his reply, “You pity me, I see it. Everyone else treats me like the arsehole I am, zero expectations, but you- you give me these big brown, sad eyes. I don’t need you feeling sorry for me!”

Hermione felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, mostly because this was completely the opposite of what she thought. It was everyone else who had expectations of him, not her. What did she ever do to imply _ pity _ ?

She dropped her dress to the floor as if ready for battle again, but this time, for the truth. “I do not pity you, Draco Malfoy!”

In a complete disregard for her words, he snorted in disbelief. “Right…”

“Why on earth would you think that? You’re only rich, handsome, hard-working, talented… what- why would anyone pity you, you…”

Instantly, she began regretting all the damn compliments in her so-called insult. Why was she not better at this? Before she could stumble upon anything good, he sat back down on the couch, “You’re the only one that looks at me as if…”

Stepping forward, she crossed her arms, anxiously awaiting how she apparently looked at him. When he looked up, he pointed at her face, “There, those eyes.”

She dropped her arms and look around the flat, unable to understand what she could possibly be doing with her eyes that bothered him so much. 

“I hardly think I’m-”

“It’s pity.”

“It is  _ not _ pity, I assure you.”

“Well, then what the hell is it, because it makes my blood boil.”

“I’m so sorry my eyes have offended you. I’ll just take my eyes, and the rest of my offensive self, and be going.”

He stood up, grabbing her arm as she began to step away, “No.”

She paused, feeling the heat of his hand around her arm, and he seemed to read her thoughts when glanced down before releasing his grip. She questioned her sanity in the moment, wishing he never let go. 

Unsure of what to do, she turned towards him. He looked elsewhere, and she watched him as the sunlight streamed in through a sliver of open curtain, which lightened the shade of his eyes.

Suddenly she felt his finger tips, reaching for her hand, “I don’t know how to do this, Granger.”

She studied his hand shakily grazing her finger tips, what was happening? Hermione looked up to him, her heart pounding at this gesture as he continued, “I’ve never- I don’t know what this is...” He slid his hand softly against her palm, and there was a tingling heat that crept up her arm as he concluded, “But I want it.”

She had to contain herself, after all, they were still bickering in front of coworkers on a regular basis. If he actually meant what she thought he meant, it could not continue like this. Lacing her fingers between his, her heart leapt upon hearing him sigh in relief, but she was not letting him off that easy. “I have a lot of questions…”

Draco nodded in understanding as Hermione looked up at him. She stepped closer to him to continue, “The bickering, the fights-”

There was a soft smile and he looked into her eyes. “It was the only way to shake the pity from your eyes.” 

Hermione huffed, “It’s not pity.”

Draco squeezed her hand, and pulled her closer. “Then, what is it?”

Now pressed against him, he leaned down to her, and she was determined not to kiss him, not yet. “Maybe one day you’ll find out, Malfoy.”

He scanned her and she knew he was staring at her lips, and every sense in her body screamed for her to kiss him, embrace him, forgive him. 

Instead, she looked away, and she felt the heat of his breath against her neck, causing her back to arch. The softness of the borrowed clothes swept across her breasts, reminding her that she was not wearing any knickers. 

The thought of being in his clothes, in his flat, pressed against him, the creamer; it all suddenly made her wonder, who else had he had brought home - and then her moment fizzled and she pulled away quickly.

“Draco, I can’t.”

She peeked up at him, he was clearly in a state, unable to move. Eventually he let go of her hand, instead, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, I’ll let you get going and, I’ll, you know, leave you alone at work.”

There was this sudden wave of disappointment she felt at his offer to leave her alone at the office. After all, it was nearly the only time in their daily lives that they interacted. How bland and boring her life would be without the heated arguments between them. Quickly she blurted, “No!”

He turned back toward her, confused by her simple statement. Hesitating, she tried to imagine what she had even meant by it. “I- it’s… I want whatever this is too, just - not like that.”

Relieved to see his eyes lighten as he stepped closer to her, she heard his voice deepen when he asked, “How exactly do you want it, Granger?”

She swallowed hard. How could she know? It’s not as if she has been here before, but he was staring at her, pressing her to continue. She could only breath and feel the warmth of him return, as he moved even closer. Leaning back down toward her he whispered, “I liked taking you home.”

His voice hot with insinuations, even if nothing had happened between them last night. He continued softly, “I liked you in my bed…”

Hermione licked her lips, remembering how comfortable she was falling asleep to the scent of him. She tried to contain herself, as he went on, “I can hardly contain myself most days, let alone with you walking around…” He tugged lightly at the shirt, feeling it tighten around her breasts, “... in my shirt.” 

Hermione had completely pooled in the boxers he had given her. It was too much, and she was finding it more difficult to hold back. Besides, she refused to be some other woman he could have taken home. She closed her eyes, imagining all the beautiful women in the office he had any chance to date. Then, as if it would answer all her concerns she blurted, “Do serve a lot of tea?”

He pulled back slightly, and she waited hesitantly to see how he would react, feeling completely idiotic for ruining the moment. 

He glanced away confused, and she knew she had not made any sense and that she should just turn and go. Her heart pounded, but to her surprise he dipped back down to whisper, “There has never been any tea served here.”

Hermione exhaled, and she turned toward him, to confirm the implications and he waited, hovering his lips close to hers. Feeling relieved and hoping to gain the moment back, she whispered, “Good. That’s exactly how I want it, Malfoy.”


	6. To Cobwebs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut and mostly unbeta'd, you have been warned!

She stepped forward, her heart racing, unsure of what exactly would happen next. Perhaps she should give him a peck on the lips, or maybe she should— Before her brain prattled about on all the possibilities, his hands wrapped around her lower back to draw her closer, and he leaned in, tilting his head as if to decide on his next move. The intensity of his closeness had her stomach swooping and she tried to find the courage to look up at him, but failed. Her only move was to place her hands around his waist, which felt so natural. Then, he leaned down and slowly peppered her neck with kisses that made her tighten her hold on him in case her knees gave out. It was only then that she noticed an element of pain that she had been carrying began to melt away. As he kissed up to her jaw, nearing her lips, she concluded that he too had been putting on a show at the workplace, against him. In her belief that no one would accept that she actually wanted someone with _his_ history? How could she explain the ache she had felt everyday by pushed him away. She had carried on with this facade, finding ways to argue with him to keep him close, even if she knew how childish it had been. By now it was clear to her that he knew the game they were playing, otherwise why did he keep it up for so long?

As his lips brushed against her cheek, he appeared to pause and gaze down at her for the longest second. This, she could not stand, so she stretched up to kiss him. It was a clear relief to the both of them from their telling exhale after they parted briefly. When their lips connected again, she draped her hands around his neck and he pressed her even closer to his body. It was all so easily done, like they had been doing it for all these years. Just as it was so natural for him to graze his hands down her thigh, leading her to raise a leg around his hips. Conveniently, the couch was directly behind him, and he sat, keeping her close. Now straddling his waist, there was a new intensity, and he groaned when she pressed herself against his erection. 

There was a moment when she thought, they should stop here, regroup, plan to go on a date at least to discuss things further, but it slipped past when his hands went up her shirt. Between their delicate pecks on the lips, he grazed her tongue with his and the boxers she had been borrowing would most definitely reveal her excitement as a result. 

She moved to kiss his cheek and he whispered, “I take it you’re staying?” She knew him enough to guess this was filled with sarcasm and she smiled against his jaw, leaning in to kiss his ear, “Only if I can keep this shirt.” 

With that he grabbed her arse, pressing her tighter against his erection, “Absolutely not Granger, you’ll wear all the luck out of it.”

She gazed at him, studying him studying her, perhaps curious if his grab of her backside might have been the wrong move. To put things back on track, she peeled off his Slytherin shirt and tossed it behind her, fully aware that she had nothing underneath. 

“That’s fine Malfoy, I don’t need any luck.”

Unprepared for her to do that so quickly, his face altered from worry to surprise. Her heart was beating fast, hoping that what she had to offer was plenty enough for him. Thankfully his curtains were mostly closed; she hardly knew this neighborhood, but still valued her modesty. He leaned up, and kissed her lips softly at first, and then they were back at it, pressing against each other until he began to peel off his own shirt as well. Merlin, it felt like heaven, both their bare chests pressed against each other. He looked as if he had been keeping up with Quidditch all these years, though she had no recollection of him continuing with the sport. As her knees dug into his leather couch, she lifted herself slightly to adjust, and his fingertips grazed the waistline of the boxers she had borrowed. Yes, she wanted them off—they too had become a burden—and she was in no mood for any interruptions. Moving to stand up, she pulled them off and caught him staring. Eager to match her move, he shuffled his pajama bottoms off. 

She only glanced down at his erection, finally able to fill in the blanks from earlier that morning on what his light blonde trail led down to. He raised his hands slightly to request her return, and she obliged. 

As she began to sink her knees into the couch, straddling him again, the palms of his hands welcomed her hips and slipped up to the sides of her breasts. She leaned in to kiss him, slightly nervous on how it would feel to be fully connected to him. His erection now pressed against her, she could not help but wrap her hand around it, which made him roll his head back.

“Fuck, Granger.”

Then he leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers, as she continued to stroke him. He pecked her on her lips, and whispered, “Are you...you’re…”

Assuming, she filled in his words, “Yes, I’m sure…”

Then he smiled and shook his head, “No, I mean- Are you… protected?” The last of his words struggling to come out as she rolled her fingers over the tip of his cock.

Hermione felt flush. Right, it was perhaps quite obvious that she was _ready_ , but was she prepared? She nodded, “Yes.” 

She had a contraception spell on her regularly, mostly because it was advised by healers, not that she had any need for it recently, or at least, up until now. Then it hit her, she had not had sex in _ages_. What if this was not going to feel as good as she had hoped? She had been so cheeky in taking off the lucky shirt, and straddling him felt so natural, like some everyday occurrence. She swallowed hard, gaging his erection in her hands. He was well above average, or maybe she was just naive. She really only had a few wizards to compare to. 

“Granger?”

She must have been in a daze, because even though she had been slowly pulling him off, he noticed. She leaned in to kiss him to avoid any further questioning, but he paused, placing his hand on hers where she was stroking him. “We don’t have to, I like this, and it’s more than enough…”

Hermione exhaled, who would have known Draco Malfoy was a gentlemen, she had always imagined he would have been more aggressive, though this was all very new between them. She leaned in, “No, it’s not that, it’s just…”

She could not just spill this information out, and for some reason, she flashed back to their insults the night before, where he claimed that no wizard would want to be with her, along with her rebuttals on his lonely nights. Honestly they could really rile each other up, truth or not. She gave a slight laugh and murmured, “It’s just… cobwebs.”

He paused, and leaned back to give her a good look, and thankfully Draco Malfoy had not been too drunk to remember what he had said at their Christmas party bickering session. Then he huffed, smirking, “Yeah, well, me too.” 

There they were, fully naked, on a couch in a flat, admitting that neither one of them had gotten laid in a while. “Really, I just assumed…” Hermione trailed. 

“Granger, you have no idea how much restraint it’s taking so as to not to explode from this.”

She looked down, as she had been absenmindling been stroking his erection, now slowing her movement down considerably. 

They both smiled, and she gazed at his flushed cheeks in contrast to his blond hair. She was curious what her own hair had looked like, it was probably the usual mess. Snapping out of it from the touch of his palms gliding across her thighs, his thumbs reaching the crevice of her pelvic bone, just inches away from her entrance. She did not want them to stop, and it was clear he was waiting for her to decide.

She leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I don’t want to stop, but maybe we take it slow.”

He exhaled and nodded, and with that she guided center over his cock, her knees gauging how low her hips would sink. At first she thought it would be easy enough, she was soaking and he slipped in so smoothly at first, but then as she let her weight lower, there was a tightening that caused her to freeze. Morgana’s Mercy, she was basically a virgin again. No, this would not stop her, she knew she had to push through it, and she tried not to show any difficulty by kissing him and placing both of her hands over his neck for leverage. 

He mewled between their kisses as she slipped down onto his cock with delicate dips, slowly pushing past her breaking point. There, she was finally past any sort of pain, and she eagerly began to rock up and down on his erection. He grabbed her arse and kissed her neck, it was ecstasy pressed up against him. Somehow her mind kept repeating, “you’re fucking Draco Malfoy”. The self revelation managed to turn her on even more, and she began to speed up, wanting more of this delicious cock plunging inside of her. Their breathing was rapid and when they could, they kissed each other, and she nearly fell apart completely when he drew his thumbs up against her clit, and gazed at her like he had suddenly become enlightened. 

They began at a steady pace, and because she was on top, she knew she had to lead, and perhaps got carried away breaking her promise to go slow. He moaned, unable to speak as she continued to grind against him. He did not seem to mind the altered pace, and she could sense that she was already beginning to peek. She supposed she could warn him, though it was not as easy as she guessed, speaking. 

“Draco...I’m…”

That’s all he needed to hear which got him excited enough to grip her arse tight, their bodies pressed against each other, rocking in rhythm. As he was thrusting into her, the slight intolerable exits from her centered had her aching for its return. Her clit was now slipping against his abdomen in such a pattern, that she wished the build up of her orgasm could last forever. They were both panting, not even caring how loud they might have been, but she was certain that at least one of his neighbors might have heard her moaning loudly as she orgasmed. The brief tightening of her body soon shivered with elation, and she could not have been gripping Draco’s neck any harder. His head was down against her breast and his lips vibrated against her skin from his low groan and she could tell he had peaked as well. 

Draco lifted his head up, and they ended up leaning their foreheads against each other, in between catching their breath, he kissed her lips. They were both sprinkled with sweat, and sat there just like that for a long moment. Hermione thought to shift and sit on the couch, but when she did he held her tight. “Malfoy, I’m not leaving…”

Somehow that was enough, and he loosed his grip and she detached herself from the heat of his body and sat next to him to rest, unaware of the ache in her hips until now. He shifted so that they ended up laying next to each other on the couch, his arm propped up behind her neck, and once again they seemed to fit like a puzzle piece. She wondered what he thought of it all, until he whispered, “Are you okay?”

She hummed turning sideways against his body, her back pressed into the cushions, “Yes, much better now.”

He adjusted to look at her better, “Meaning?”

She took a second before speaking, staring across his bare chest, past the drapes that were adjusted in such a way that allowed only a peek of the morning light into the room. She began to focus her eyes and noticed that it was snowing. He followed her gaze, turning his head in the same direction watching it fall as well. It was quiet as they both watched the sprinkling of snow through this one small view of the window right next to the small tabletop christmas tree she had noticed earlier. Hermione’s mind was delightfully numb and it was peaceful. Draco’s arm gave her a light squeeze implying she should continue, but she did not want to ruin the moment, considering what she wanted to say may sound odd if spoken out loud. 

“Well, it was actually quite painful... to not kiss you, or… I mean I wouldn’t just go up and do that...” 

She squinted her eyes, it was not exactly what she meant, and it was definitely not winning on poetry or romance. She wanted to explain that every time she saw him at work, or ran into him in the canteen for a coffee she wanted more than to just make an attempt to be civil. It was just painful continuing on this act of despising him. He made a huff sound, and turned back to her, tracing her bare hips with the pads of his fingers.

“It was. Let’s not do that anymore.” 

And with that, they had finally agreed on something that had been left unsaid after all the years they had worked together. It was small but magical, like the discovery of snow through the corner of a window, but it meant so much more.

It probably took them over an hour to even budge, between pecks on the lips and gazing at each other in a whole new perspective. Finally they managed to get up and slip on their previous clothes. Draco went to the kitchen to put on more coffee and to find what else he actually had to eat. Hermione sat down, watching him from afar, and when he handed her the mug of coffee, she raised it high to offer a toast to their new found relationship, “To Coffee.”

He clinked her mug, and leaned in to kiss her cheek and whispered, “...and to cobwebs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, I was BOTWP for beta'ing this piece. It's been collecting dust for years and I'm finally posting it!! Any and all other edits are my own mistakes, especially the last chapter!


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